In Memoriam
by The Storyteller of Dreams
Summary: "I am Edward Middleford, the son of Alexis Leon Middleford and Frances Middleford, older brother to Elizabeth Middleford. I am a Knight of England, forever sworn to protect her people. At least, that was who I was until I died saving a certain blond Reaper and ended up in Limbo without my memories. The least you can do then, Ronald Knox, is aid me in bringing my killer to justice."
1. That Reaper, Search

Title: _In Memoriam_

Summary: _"I am the son of Alexis Leon Middleford and Frances Middleford, older brother to Elizabeth Middleford. I am a Knight of England, forever sworn to protect her people. At least, that was who I was until I died saving a certain blond Reaper and ended up in Limbo without my memories. The least you can do then, Ronald Knox, is aid me in bringing my killer to justice."_

Character(s): Edward Middleford, Ronald Knox, Elizabeth Middleford, Ciel Phantomhive

Pairing(s): Ronald/Edward, Ciel/Lizzie, etc…

**It has come to my attention that Ronald looks a lot like America/Alfred from Hetalia **_**(and even kind of acts the same!),**_** while Edward looks really similar to England/Arthur **_**(if he has thicker eyebrows). **_**So! Since I love USUK, and there's a really, really distinct lack of Ronald/Edward fics, I'm making one of my own. Hopefully, this will inspire others to make more Ron/Ed fics! **_**(*hopeful stare/puppy dog eyes*)**_

**That said, even though the main pairing is what this fandom considers 'crack pairing', I'll endeavour to make this a **_**(somewhat) **_**serious story. It'll focus deeply on the Reaper's world and society, as well as the effects of Edward's death on the Middlefords **_**(especially Elizabeth, whom I'm hoping to turn from a girly little girl to a full-fledged Badass Knight who can be Ciel's equal and partner).**_

**Please be aware of the presence of magic in this fic. And I do mean the **_**spells **_**kind of thing, and the kind where you think of something and it happens. However, there are limitations to magic in this fic which will be known later.**

* * *

**Chapter One: That Reaper, Search**

"_So word by word, and line by line,_

_The dead man touch'd me from the past,_

_And all at once it seem'd at last_

_The living soul was flash'd on mine."_

-Alfred Tennyson, _In Memoriam_

* * *

How many centuries had passed since he last saw the sky?

Alarms blared out, ringing like incessant flies circling overhead, flashing red lights on the sterile white walls. It wasn't there when he last walked through these corridors as a prisoner, but it had been centuries since his imprisonment and who knew how far Limbo's technology had advanced? Who knew how far _she _has taken these dead-humans-turned-guardians to. For all he knew, they may have discovered a way to make men fly.

It didn't matter. Nothing does, really, in this moment. He had to run. Run, run, and continue running to escape the human-shaped hounds they called his jailers. _Reapers. _Tch, an annoyance, more like. Once upon a time, he may have bitten his words, choke them back and deny them _(for he was once proud of being a Reaper, but no more, no more)_, but now curses flowed easily down his chapped lips, laced with energy and spirit and centuries-old bitterness and hatred. _Magic. _Those curses became _power _then_, _spells which hinder and harmed his pursuers, putting more distance between himself and the Reapers on duty.

Behind him, a wall of fire and a rain of ice flared and pierced his chasers.

Soon enoughhe had left the prison which had been his home _(never, no, it was hell)_ for centuries. He gazed up, to the aloof sky, framed by a circle of coniferous trees clawing upwards, and laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and _laughed. _Because why shouldn't he? He was out, free for the first time in what felt like eternity, and in doing so he had proven _her _words wrong. _Her, _the unflappable, perfect, worshipped, superior. _Her_, the so-called _woman (he spat the thought in disgust. __**Her, **__a __**person**__, someone like __**them—**__**him?**__ No, no, no) _who ordered his imprisonment. _Her, _the one who could not see the potential of his experiments _(or perhaps she did, and that was why she ordered him to stop). _He laughed again, and only the crows were there to laugh alongside him _(or rather, it was only they who dared to do so)_.

His prison rested on a lonely mountain; situated on a precarious cliff, as if just one push and everything will come falling down into the ravine below it. From where he stood now, high above them _(for why should he not? They did not understand what he knew) _he could see everything with perfect clarity. His former prison was burning, and if he closed his eyes and concentrate, he imagined hearing the screams of the dozens of elite Reapers and prisoners there. _Dead once again, _he thought, and perhaps giggled a bit. It was amusing. They were already dead, yet apparently death could still come to them anyway. He briefly wondered where all those souls _(those poor, poor souls which in life were neither too good for Heaven nor too evil for Hell)_ would go. Would they be reborn into the Human Realm, or would they go to the Forest of Awakening once more to become reapers _(important thing, that; the difference between reapers and Reapers)_? Or maybe…

_The origin._

The thought nearly had him salivating, but he forced himself to be composed. It was not yet done, or rather, it was _almost _completed before _she _came along and ruined it. Hmph! Well, no matter. He expected all his works on the subject to be destroyed already, but that was fine. He remembered everything. Or at least, everything that was worth remembering. The years of his imprisonment made it all the more clearer to his to facilitate his mind and focus only on the important things. His project, his goals, his revenge. Yes, everything may be ruined _for now, _but he could rebuild, and when it was finished, he would show _her._

He would show _everyone _they were wrong.

He laughed again, head tilted back and face towards the cold, cold moon.

First thing first, he needed to find a natural portal, one of those little wefts and warps in the fabric of reality which would allow him to escape Limbo, the Reaper's Realm _(__**her **__domain)_, and one which wasn't guarded by _her _dogs.

And then…

He grinned, impatient to begin.

* * *

Ronald Knox hated working overtime.

There were so many things worth doing other than work. Sure, he liked his job as a Reaper, but not _that _much. Honestly, if he had any say in it all, he would much rather go out with one of the girls in the Personnel Department and party rather than being stuck in his supervisor's dreary office. He did try to curb it a bit _(only a bit though), _because his co-workers already treat him like a youngster, despite having lived for several centuries, due to his teenage looks. It wasn't _his _fault he died young. How was he supposed to know that demons and fae and fallen angels were real?

Talk about being caught at the wrong place in the wrong time.

That said, he rather enjoyed his afterlife. At least it was _much _more pleasant than his previous life, when he had to do many, many things which disgusted him just to scrape by. The Reaper's Realm wasn't exactly Paradise, but people were cared for here, no matter their social class, race, or status in life. They got the credits they needed to live every month by the State and could get extra if they're willing to work. Food, shelter, healthcare, and education were a basic right to all who lived in Limbo, and though Ronald's recollection of his past life was a bit incomplete _(like most others living in this realm), _the Reaper knew that such things were a luxury back when he was still alive.

Hell, it was still a luxury _now._

_(There was irony there, Ronald mused absently, when being dead is better than being alive.)_

Still, on days like these, Ronald wished he was still a student in the Academy. Life _(or something close to it when one is dead) _was much easier when he was still a newbie to the Reaper's Realm. All he had to do was attend the classes given to him, get good grades, try not to sleep during lectures, and all in all, just enjoy the wonders of Limbo. Absently, momentarily ignoring Spears' briefing on the rogue Reaper he and his senior partner was supposed to capture, Ronald wondered about his former Greeter.

How was Cleo doing? It had been such a long time since he saw the Egyptian woman. She was a former Reaper who once worked in the Demon Hunter Division, before retiring and joining the Greeter Organisation. She was the one who had guided him when he awoken—lost and alone—in the Forest of Awakening, helped him acclimated to Limbo, and the one taught him the ropes of this world. It was a good job for her, Ronald admitted, thinking to call her sometime soon; someone as nice and friendly as her would be better at comforting the newly dead than reaping the souls and Cinematic Records of the dying. Sometimes, Ronald thought, looking at his seniors, being a Reaper chipped away bits and pieces of you, taking a part of you every time you see another person dead or dying and realise there was _nothing _you could do to help.

_(It still bothered him whenever he had to reap the souls of young children. They barely had the time to live; to see the world or make their mark on someone else's life…It wasn't fair…Why must they die so young?)_

Death is an absolute rule, however, and as a Reaper _(as someone stuck in the twilight of life and death)_, Ronald understood it was the one thing that could _never _be changed.

_(It wasn't fair, it just __**was**__, and perhaps that was the hardest lesson for him to learn.)_

"Do you understand," William T. Spears said more than asked, "You two are assigned to apprehend Adrian Baines, a former Reaper who once worked in the Research and Development Department."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," his partner, Grell Sutcliff, said, "Don't get your panties in a twist, Will, I still remember the guy. He's the one who made my chainsaw, remember?"

Really, that was news to Ronald. Interested, the blond Reaper looked back and forth between his two seniors.

"I remember," William replied, and Ronald blinked. Did his supervisor sounded _resigned? _No, it was more like…_sad, _which was even more shocking to the blond. The dark-haired Reaper briefly closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers. "That's why I'm concerned. I don't think it's a good idea for you two to be the ones hunting him."

"_You, _concerned? Heh," the redhead Reaper chuckled lowly. "That's new. Don't worry, I'm the strongest Reaper in this division, and I'll make sure Ronald won't get himself killed too, so just relax, Will."

"I can take care of myself." Ronald mumbled quietly.

Both ignored him. William sighed, flicking his eyes open to look at Grell. "Don't do anything rash. You know as well as I do how powerful Baines is. And try not to get too caught up with the demon, Grell."

"Aww, jealous?" she smirked, blowing a kiss which caused their supervisor to blush deeply. "Sebas-darling may be handsome enough to make me want to cut him up into itty bitty little pieces and bathe him in red, but you're the only man for me, Will-dear."

If possible, William blushed even darker, coughing awkwardly as if that could displace the sudden awkward mood. Ronald turned his head away, pointedly looking at an idyllic landscape painting on the wall. Had he ever noticed that before? Such a lovely shade of…red…_err…_

_(Grell really loved to torment her juniors, doesn't she?)_

"Enough." William said sternly, but the effect was somewhat ruined by his fierce blush. "You have your mission, now leave and don't return until you have something to report."

Grell cackled as she spun on her heels, scarlet coat swishing behind her, and exited the office. Ronald to a moment to glance at his supervisor, whose blush was fading with every step his partner took, before leaving, closing the door behind him politely _(hey, he didn't want more trouble than necessary)_. The blond Reaper sighed as he followed after the extravagant red Reaper, nodding to fellow Reapers and giving a flirty smile to some as he headed to the Transporter Hall. He had a feeling that this was going to be one of those long missions, and it would feel even longer if he was with Grell.

Ronald sighed again as he caught up to his partner. He hated doing overtime.

* * *

_Two women had disappeared on Fenchurch Street._

_A man was found dead on Tobacco Dock._

_A couple was found comatose nearby the Tower of London._

_A small group of nobles were kidnapped on Wapping High Street._

Ciel tapped at the map with irritation. Red pins were stabbed through the locations of the victims' last appearances, along with small notes on the side detailing their discovery. These, however, gave the young noble no further ideas on the identity of the criminal, and Ciel was hesitant on attacking before fully understanding who the enemy was. Still, the Queen was getting anxious, especially after the low-ranked nobles were kidnapped. It was one thing to take a few prostitutes, maybe even a couple of normal civilians, but once the nobles were taken then society will begin to fuss.

_(Which was exactly fair to the commoners, but Ciel knew the world wasn't fair.)_

"Darjeeling tea today, my lord." Sebastian spoke from behind him, his ever enigmatic smile fixed firmly on his face as he bowed to the young noble.

Ciel barely glanced at him, simply reaching out to where he knew the tea was placed on top of the silver tray his demon butler carried. It was almost instinct by this point; Ciel knew exactly where his butler was when he was within the vicinity. The familiarity did not surprise him, though it perhaps bothered him a bit, and Ciel brought the cup to his lips as he surveyed the maps once more.

"This case again, my lord?" Sebastian asked. "Did we not confirm that the criminal is most likely hiding in the Saint Katherine Docks?"

"Yes, we know that." Ciel replied, placing the cup back on the tray. "Yet we still haven't found any clues as to who this criminal could be. Obviously it wasn't any mere thugs, as no normal human could ever rip the souls of another, yet you also said you didn't sense any demonic aura. That means we are dealing with an unknown supernatural, Sebastian, and I rather like to investigate more before discussing attack plans."

"A wise move, but may I suggest something?"

"You're going to do so anyway, so you might as well get on with it." Ciel grumbled lightly.

"Very well," Sebastian nodded respectfully, like all high-class butlers do. "Have you considered the Reapers, my lord? They, too, have the power to take souls."

"The Reapers are a neutral party." Well, as long as Grell didn't see Sebastian at least. Most of the time, as long as they didn't interfere with each other's duties, they got along fairly well. "Besides, this doesn't seem like something the Undertaker would do."

_(The Undertaker would do the whole thing for a laugh, but Ciel wasn't laughing, and he had a feeling that this case wasn't a joke.)_

"I do not mean it that way." Sebastian replied. "I meant that they may have some relevant information we could use. It may be best if we find one and consult them regarding the case."

Ciel frowned. "You would ask the Reaper? Why, Sebastian, when we both know they would only be there to take care of the dead?"

"That may be so, but it is also their duties to safeguard the souls of the dead and make sure they reach whatever afterlife awaits them." His demon butler answered. "I am certain they would be interested in this case when they hear of the missing souls."

The young noble looked at the map again. It was true, Ciel mused, that the Reapers would surely be interested in such a thing. He remembered the _Campania, _how the two Reapers assigned there spoke of investigating the soulless, moving corpses. Perhaps they were looking into this matter even now. In that case, it would only make sense to ally with them for now, at least for the duration of his mission. The problem was, however, finding a Reaper that wouldn't attack them on sight _(Grell), _wouldn't flat out despise them upon seeing Sebastian _(William), _and who knew them enough to listen to them _(who?)_.

Ciel groaned, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair and pressing a palm against his forehead. "Do you know how difficult it is to find a Reaper who'll talk to us? Most of them would like to kill you on sight, and we can't talk if you're busy fighting them."

"It'll be a simple matter of wearing them out and beating them to the ground." Sebastian replied, and was it his imagination, or did Ciel saw his Mona Lisa smile twist upwards in real amusement?

"I rather not. It's a waste of time doing so." The young noble said, tapping his map once again. "Still, maybe there's something they can say about all this…Very well, Sebastian, we're going out tonight."

Sebastian smiled enigmatically, a hand over his heart as he bowed deeply, formally _(like any good butlers do)._

"Yes, my lord."

* * *

Ronald had put his past behind him.

London had changed since he died, so much so that it could stun him if he ever thought of it too deeply. Dirt paths had turned to concrete, ramshackle wood houses had become solid brick buildings, and phrases and words he once believed to be cool were now so archaic that only the oldest grandparents used them anymore. Time had taken away many things he knew, and ended certain periods he liked. It was almost like death, the most fundamental, strictest rule which all life adhered to, and Ronald had been in the business long enough to confidently make that statement.

Change was like death.

Still, it wasn't so bad. There were some things that remained the same, no matter when or where. The people, for once, beneath all the veneer of advancements and social constructs, were still the same. Sometimes, Ronald liked to spend his break walking around the streets he used to roam, observing everyone mingling and walking past, keeping up with the latest news. He could see with his own eyes the same greed and love and hate and ambitions and pride; _everything _which used to drive the people back when he was alive inside of every single human he saw right now. Humanity, he mused, has an interesting quality of remaining intrinsically the same while changing at the same time.

No wonder many supernatural found them amusing.

Now, he looked at the boy called Ciel Phantomhive, the one in which many strange beings were drawn to, and wonder.

It was obvious that revenge drove the boy. Why else would he make a deal with the devil? Pride, too, had some factor in it _(and didn't it cause God's greatest angel to be thrown out of heaven?)_. It almost made Ronald shook his head, sigh, and hope that when the day comes _(as it would inevitably) _some other Reaper would collect his Cinematic Records.

Certain Reapers might find Ciel Phantomhive's life story to be interesting, and while Ronald was entertained by his presence _(seriously, the kid had the worst luck, and the occasional amusing events), _he didn't find a life centred around revenge and pride to be remarkable. _Boring, _more like it. It was so obvious that the boy believed himself to be the centre of the universe, to be the only thing that mattered in this world. Sure, he may consider the few people close to him important, but at the end of the day, Ciel Phantomhive was nothing more than a selfish, self-destructive brat.

_(And that's not accounting all the hassle involved in retrieving the soul. Really, demons are a pest.)_

Above them, the moon shone coldly upon the starlit skies, the silver Cheshire grin of the heavens. In front, Grell and the demon, Sebastian, clashed, chainsaw roaring and silverware flying, while behind them was an empty street and the dead body whose soul Ronald had retrieved. He should probably help his senior, but the flamboyant Reaper would probably get mad if he interrupted his playtime with 'Sebas-darling', and he would really like to avoid an irate partner for the duration of this mission.

So, Ronald leaned against the wall, waiting for them to finish.

"You're not helping him?" The boy asked, and really, if Ronald didn't knew what he knew; he might have thought Ciel was innocently curious.

As it was, the blond Reaper merely shrugged, saying. "Nah, Grell will skin me alive if I interrupted her playtime. Anyway, it's not like your butler was stealing any soul," _except yours, eventually, _"so I rather just wait them out than risk getting killed."

The boy nodded, seemingly accepting his reason. "I rather agree with you." He looked at him, a hand under his chin, "Hmm…this isn't the first time we met, is it?"

"Nope," he replied, "We met at the _Campania. _I was the one who told you two how to stop those Bizarre Dolls."

"I see, thank you for that." Ciel said, extending a hand in greeting, "Forgive me, but it seemed I have forgotten your name."

He raised an eyebrow at that. Was he _really _being civil when his butler was fighting with his partner? Ronald glanced at the hand extended again. Well, it certainly _seemed _so, but why? What was the noble trying to pull?

"Ronald Knox of the Reaper Association's Dispatch Department," the blond Reaper said, shaking his hand. It felt very strange to do so when Grell was hollering flirtatious threats _(and ugh, too much information, senior!) _while trying to kill the demon butler under the other's employ. Still, it wasn't as if he had any personal grievances against them _(the whole sold-your-soul-to-a-demon thing aside, which meant more work for whoever was unfortunate enough to have to retrieve the Earl's soul)_.

_(Though now that he thought of it, wasn't retrieving souls eaten by demons part of the Demon Hunter Division's job?)_

"Ciel Phantomhive, Earl of the Phantomhive Family," the boy returned, gripping his hand confidently before withdrawing. He looked curious again. "This is the first time I talked civilly with a Reaper."

"The Undertaker doesn't count?"

"I didn't know he was a Reaper before then," he replied, a grimace crossing his features. "Looking back, it should've been obvious. There was definitely something strange about him."

"Yeah, there is." Ronald nodded.

Silence descended upon them, punctuated by the noisy clashing of a Reaper and a demon.

Ronald rubbed the back of his head. _Awkward…_

Next to him, the boy coughed lightly, drawing his attention even as Sebastian let loose a dozen of knives at Grell, who easily sliced them away with her chainsaw. The blond Reaper turned his attention to the noble, ignoring the two fighters for now.

"I suppose there's no other way to say this…" Ciel sighed, a small frown on his face. A look of determination was set on his face. "Do the Reapers know of the murders happening in London right now?"

Ronald scratched his head, "You gotta be a bit more specific, Earl. Lots of people are killed every day in this city."

"Very well…"Annoyance flashed in his visible eye. "How about certain kidnappings then? There has been a number of people found missing, only to be found later either dead or soulless. Do you know anything about it?"

"Soulless? Well, _that's _a problem." Ugh, Ronald didn't _do _overtime, but this seemed important. No humans could steal another soul, so it was either a demon or… "Hmm…maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Ciel prompted.

The blond Reaper pursed his lips. "I don't know whether I should say this…I _really _don't want to get into trouble with management and do extra paperwork. I hate overtime, you know? Buuuut…"

He glanced at his senior partner, who was still fighting with Sebastian. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, or at least Grell was. The demon seemed as composed as ever, if a little disgusted at the red Reaper's teasing words. Well, it wasn't like Grell was a paragon of responsibility anyway, and she seemed to be too busy to notice his dilemma. Great, that meant the decision was up to _him. _Ronald turned to looked at Ciel again, silently wondering to himself what the boy was plotting underneath his stoic façade.

Sighing, the blond Reaper pushed his hands into his pockets. "We're currently on a mission to look for a rogue Reaper, not the Undertaker though, but Adrian Baines of the Research and Development Department."

"I see…" The noble said, looking thoughtful. "Can you explain more about your mission?"

"Sure! But you gotta give me something in return." Ronald grinned when the Earl grimaced. "Why are you so interested in this?"

"It's a mission from the Queen," the boy answered, reluctance written all over his face. "I was sent to look into the mysterious kidnappings, and so far, all we have uncovered is that it is done by someone not human."

"I doubt it's the _only _thing you've uncovered." The Reaper smirked. "Come on, Phantomhive, if I'm telling you this then you gotta give me something in return."

He could _almost _hear the other growl. "Fine. The kidnappings and discovery of the corpses and soulless victims all occurred around Saint Katherine Docks."

"That's better," Ronald replied. In the background, Grell was shouting obscene things _(which he really, __**really **__rather not hear) _at Sebastian. The blond Reaper said, "Alright, since you gave me that, I'll tell you this. Adrian Baines was imprisoned for illegal experimentations on souls. It's a bit unclear, but it seemed he was researching about the 'origins' of the soul, whatever that was."

Ciel nodded. "I see. Is there anything else?"

"Sure, like the shape of his deathscythe, his appearance, you know, all that." Ronald grinned. "But I'm not telling you anything more unless you got something else to give."

As expected, the young noble grimaced, his frown looking heavy under the pale moonlight. "What do you want then?"

He tapped a finger against his chin thoughtfully. Well, he didn't really expect the Earl to accept his condition so easily. To be honest, he was expecting more of a fight, though he was relieved it wasn't so. Still, what could he ask of him…

"You and your demon are going to help us capture Adrian Baines," the blonde Reaper finally answered, "and unlike the _Campania, _there won't be any fight over who gets him. You will hand him over to us and give your report to your Queen without him."

Ciel pursed his lips, as if mildly displeased, "I suppose human security won't be any match to a Reaper."

It wasn't a question, but Ronald nodded anyway. The boy seemed to mulled over it carefully, staring up at him with an inscrutable look in his lone eye. Behind them, Grell and Sebastian continued to fight, as if oblivious to the on-going negotiations.

"Acceptable," the noble said at last, nodding with finality at the deal. He extended his hand again, and Ronald shook it, a little surprised at how _easy _it all was. This was going to be one of the bad missions, wasn't it? Just a feeling, but nothing good ever came up when things were going _too _smoothly _(or if a certain adolescent noble was a part of it)_.

Ciel glanced at the fight as he withdrew his hand, shouting at the fighters, "Sebastian, stop! We've come to an agreement!"

As the fight drew to a screeching halt, Ronald frowned, seeing the frustrated look on Grell's face as the demon stopped fighting to jump to his master's side. Suddenly, that angered gaze was pinned on _him, _scorching hot and blazing with fury. He gulped, sent a prayer to whatever god was listening, and hoped the red Reaper wouldn't kill him for ending her 'fun'.

Ronald _really _didn't want to die again.

* * *

**CHAPTER 1: END**

* * *

Notes:

I use the feminine pronouns in this chapter to describe Grell since it was mostly done from Ronald's point of view. In this story, the reapers are fine with someone like Grell _(who calls himself a woman even though he's physically a male)_ as their society is a _lot _different than Victorian era was. However, when using a human's point of view, Grell will be described with masculine pronouns, such as 'he' or 'his', as they didn't really have the concept of a male declaring himself a female back then.

* * *

Fun Facts:

-The poet Alfred Tennyson was the 1st Baron Tennyson, born during the Victorian era. He was one of the British's most popular poets and his poems, especially _In Memoriam A.H.H. _(written for his best friend, Arthur Henry Hallam, who died before being able to marry Tennyson's sister), was well liked by Queen Victoria. She liked that particular poem best because she was "much soothed and pleased" after reading it following her husband's, Prince Albert's, death.


	2. That Knight, Beginning of the End

Title: _In Memoriam_

Summary: _"I am Edward Middleford, the son of Alexis Leon Middleford and Frances Middleford, older brother to Elizabeth Middleford. I am a Knight of England, forever sworn to protect her people. At least, that was who I was until I died saving a certain blond Reaper and ended up in Limbo without my memories. The least you can do then, Ronald Knox, is aid me in bringing my killer to justice."_

Character(s): Edward Middleford, Ronald Knox, Elizabeth Middleford, Ciel Phantomhive

Pairing(s): Ronald/Edward, Ciel/Lizzie, etc…

**Notes: Some references to the Weston College arc. Also, I think I skewed the timeline a bit…I forgot when the **_**Campania **_**sunk. Oh well, just say that the events on board that ship happened earlier, kay? So there's still time for them to go back home and settle into normal life **_**(for about, say, a month or so) **_**before this story starts.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: That Knight, Beginning of the End**

* * *

The countryside rolled outside of the village's window; a pleasant shade of green fields and swelling hills, pockmarked by the few houses here and there, under a rare clear-blue sky as the sun joyfully shone down upon the wide, wide world. His blond hair was brushed by the wind, his green eyes taking in the place he grew up in with deep fondness. Leaning against the window, Edward smiled as he made his way home.

Easter was soon upon them, and while he usually spent it at Weston College, his parents had insisted on him coming home for the holiday. After the horrors aboard the _Campania, _his dear parents had become quite worried _(of course, not overtly, at least from his mother). _Nothing should have happened on that three weeks trip to America, yet the unspeakable occurred anyway. Let the newspapers speculate whatever they pleased, the survivors knew the truth. The dead had walked, seemingly overturning the sacred rule between life and death.

If such a thing had happened on a normal trip like that…If such thing had happened after Ciel Phantomhive's unexpected arrival…

Well, it was no wonder his parents would like to keep their children closer.

_(None of them said so to Ciel, but when they saw him, the first thing they did once they returned to their rooms was to grab their swords.)_

As the carriage drew closer to the Middleford's manor, Edward felt his smile widen. He tapped his foot on the carriage's floor and nearly jiggled his leg before he realised it and stopped. If Mama was here, she would have scolded him for such a thing; she always told him to act as befitting a proper English gentleman. The thought made him smile more. He wasn't looking forward to be beaten by his mother on the fencing mat if he did something she considered 'improper', but God, he missed the strict woman. Papa would greet him with a hug, or a 'manly embrace', as they called it _(which made Mama and Elizabeth rolled their eyes in fond exasperation; maybe it was a girl thing?)_. And Lizzie…

His smile turned into a grin.

When the carriage stopped, Edward took a deep, steadying breath before stepping out. The moment he put two feet on the ground, a blur of blonde curls and frilly, pink dress nearly tackled him down.

"Brother!" Elizabeth shouted, looking up at him with a wide smile on her face. "Edward, you're here!"

He returned the embrace, heart melting at her apparent happiness, like it usually did whenever he saw his smiling sister. "Hey, Lizzie," he said softly, hugging her with one arm and patting her head with his free hand. "How have you been? Sharpen your sword skills lately?"

"I should ask you that, Ed," she replied, pulling away just enough to beam a _(nearly cheeky) _smile. "Have _you _gotten any better?"

He laughed, feeling the weight of his studies, the morbid horrors of the _Campania_, and his own worries falling away. The darkness had no place in the light of his sister's presence. She had a wonderful way of distracting him and others from their troubles and putting a smile on their faces.

"We'll see later," Edward answered amicably, ruffling her hair. She may have been a genius in the sword, but Elizabeth tried to avoid fencing practice as much as she could, seeing it as 'uncute' or too tomboyish. Whenever he was around, Edward liked to remind her that she wasn't always so dainty and ladylike, that she used to climb trees and run around 'till her skirts were grass-stained as a child, that she used to be like her mother and didn't care if society called her an abnormality or whispered slanders behind her back. His sister was strong, and _is still _strong now _(he couldn't imagine the mental fortitude needed to maintain such oblivious and innocent persona. Elizabeth loved dolls and poems and embroidery as much as the next girl, but not __**that **__much), _yet ever since that day Ciel told her he was glad to have _sweet, gentle, and kind _Elizabeth as his wife, and not someone like her mother, she had changed.

_(That was one of the reasons Edward hadn't fully accepted Ciel as her fiancé. Elizabeth deserved the very best, a man like their father who fell in love with their mother for her strength and abilities, not despite of it. Someone who wouldn't mind if she could fight or shoot or ride horses on her own. Someone who wouldn't so easily dismiss her as a little girl to be tolerated…)_

Elizabeth giggled, pretending to frown, though it ended up more like a pout. He laughed again and patted her hair, which made her whine, complaining that she wasn't a child anymore. His sister wriggled out of his grasp, her frilly, pink dress _(pink wasn't her favourite colour, and as much she thought frills were cute, she also thought they could be bothersome)_ brushing against his ankles as she spun out of his arms, low-heeled shoes tapping against the ground like a playful dancer _(or elegant fencer)._

_(She should have been wearing high heels by now, Edward thought; all the other girls he saw wore them.)_

She took his hand, pulling him towards the manor with strength no mere girl should possess. Chuckling, Edward followed her.

"Come on," Elizabeth said, her voice like tinkling stars _(and oh, if she didn't knew how to protect herself, Edward would be only too happy to do so)_. "Mama and Papa are waiting for you."

* * *

The greetings had gone rather well. His parents welcomed him exactly the way he expected them to. His father had hugged him _(like father, like daughter), _while his mother stood back, waiting for her husband to release him, before she approached him and placed both hands on his shoulders. She observed him intently, but Edward was too used to it to be bothered. His mother always did that to see if he was hurt in anyway or to see if he had improved, her own way of caring. After a while, she smiled and warmly said, _"Welcome home, Edward."_

Afterwards, the small family of four settled themselves on the drawing room and began to talk. His parents asked him about his studies, to which he replied that it was well, but he still had room for improvements. Elizabeth asked him if he made any friends, only half-serious as they already knew the answer to that. Weston College may not accept government intervention, but status and political plays still happened in the halls anyway. The students all knew that he was the heir of the Middleford family—that he was likely the next leader of the British Knights—and such status attracted a host of eager-to-please bootlickers which he had neither time nor patience to deal with.

_(Only a few didn't care about his status, and they were the prefects and their fags. Still, they each had their own groups and cliques, so it was hard to be close to them.)_

"It is important for you to pick your friends wisely," his mother said, understanding.

He shifted the topic, talking about the odd rumour he had been hearing. Apparently, Derrick Arden was moved from the Red House to the Violet House. Personally, he found it strange, as did his father. After all, it was rare that somebody was moved to another House. Edward mentioned that the other noble _(apparently some distant relation of the Queen, his father supplied) _was Prefect Redmond's fag, and so he knew him to some extent, though they never interacted much. There was just…something _off _with him. Derrick, however, was a pleasant enough man in his experience, always eager to help the prefects out.

The thing was, despite all his acclaimed work, his hands always seemed clean and smooth. Edward, who had helped out his prefect a lot, found it odd as fag work often ended with rough, dirtied hands. Did he had someone else do his work? But, that couldn't be right; Derrick Arden was a good man…right?

An hour or two passed in pleasant conversation, paused only when the butler arrived to set the snacks, cakes, and tea _(simple, refreshing Chamomile today)_. Eventually though, Edward found himself blinking drowsily, nearly dozing off mid-conversation, his vision steadily growing blurry as he tried to stiffen his yawns. His parents noticed, and he was dismissed to rest. Bidding them farewell, and a promise to be up by teatime, Edward went up to his room.

Yawning, Edward took to his bed and fell asleep.

* * *

Teatime went as pleasantly as the morning. Conversation flowed easily, like a free-flowing river. They chatted over an excellent Earl Grey tea over recent events, anything ranging from the weather to literature and to the Queen. It was during one such conversation when Edward heard the murders.

"Ghastly thing, that," his father said, shaking his head sadly as he cut his steak. "Poor souls, to be snatched away at the dead of night and return either in a coffin or inside a hospital. It's almost like that Jack the Ripper case again."

"But there is no rhyme or reason to the kidnappings. Prostitutes aren't the only ones being abducted, but also ordinary citizens and a few nobles," his mother added, looking at them with caution in her eyes. "I must ask both of you to exercise caution whenever you are in London. I think you should bring your special cane and umbrella too, Edward, Elizabeth. Who knows who or when the kidnapper will strike next?"

He and Elizabeth nodded. There was no point in arguing against their mother when she decided on something. "Yes, Mama."

"I wonder though…" his sister began, gazing down at her near-untouched plate with worry. "Isn't this an interference in regular society from the underworld? Will Ciel have to take this as a case from the Queen?"

He and his parents exchanged a look. After the _Campania, _Elizabeth had taken more interest in her future husband's work. Edward knew that she had revealed her sword skills to defend her fiancé, something which used to make her worry _(he used to spend hours assuring her that being strong doesn't mean she wasn't beautiful or 'uncute', all the while seething at Ciel. The boy had no idea how lucky he was…)_, but thankfully, Ciel had accepted her _(which made Edward accept him a bit. Only a bit. He still had ways to go before he got his full acceptance)_. Ever since then, Edward noted an increase in activities his sister had once thought 'uncute' or 'unladylike'.

_(Their weekly correspondence after the trip was filled with letters telling him how much she had been practicing her swordsmanship, marksmanship and horse riding. He even learned that she was looking a bit more into codes and foreign languages, and had asked him for books she could learn from.)_

_(To say it made Edward incredibly proud and happy was an understatement.)_

"If he does, it will be between himself and the Queen," the Marquis replied. "You can ask him tomorrow though."

"Will you be visiting him?" Edward asked.

She nodded, "Yes, I don't want him to spend the day before Easter alone. Furthermore, I…"

She paused, trailing off to look at her plate with a small frown.

"You will also be telling him of your planned trip to the continent, perhaps even Asia if the time permits it," their mother said firmly.

She nodded, though her eyes remained fixed on her plate. Edward knew that she had taken steps needed to gain the necessary skills to survive as the future Lady Phantomhive, but his sister's heart remained firmly fixed in England, stuck to a boy who didn't notice the true extent of her devotion to him. If she left, Elizabeth would return in either two or three years' time, and by then they would be young adults in the eyes of society, changed by time and experiences. When they meet again after the trip, it would be as if they were meeting for the first time all over again.

_(Elizabeth confided her true fears to him—if she left, if she stopped looking at Ciel for even a moment, would he leave again without a trace only to return as a stranger?)_

Edward didn't like to see his normally cheerful sister sad, and so tried to move the topic. "How long will your trip last?"

"Around two years, maybe three. Papa will be accompanying me," she said, flashing a fleeting smile at their father, before she returned her attention to him. "We'll head to France first, before going to Italy, Austria, Hungary, Bulgaria, and Turkey. From there, we might head to Asia if my progress is satisfactory."

He nodded. "I wish I can accompany you, but sadly I still have a couple more years before I graduate." Edward smiled at her. "I hope you'll have fun, Lizzie, despite this being far from a recreational trip."

The smile she returned was wan, but Edward believed everything counted. She was looking a bit more like her old self already.

"Naturally, you must not speak a word of the true nature of this trip to anyone," their mother said, and they nodded. He could just imagine the ill rumours spreading about her if word got out that she was learning codes and fighting. It was a _very _unladylike thing to do, a violation on the norms of their society where propriety was a virtue they espoused. Their mother had enough trouble with other noble ladies over her 'manly' hobbies, he couldn't think what would happened to his dear sister. If other nobles ever heard that Elizabeth took part in any manly activities _(fencing excluded, as it was expected of their family and if someone __**dared **__to badmouth her, then they have three furious swordsmen after them)_, she could be shun from society.

When Edward thought about it, he found it deeply unfair. His mother and sister deserved much more than to be a porcelain doll or a caged bird of paradise.

That was how it was, however. Society was there when they were born, and would remain even after they die. Despite the suffragette movements, Edward doubted he would see much change in his lifetime.

Perhaps, in another life, in another world, things could be different.

* * *

The next morning, Edward left for London. His friend and prefect, Herman Greenhill, was in town visiting an aunt and had invited him over. Edward couldn't find any reason to refuse, and as he looked up the German for his impressive work ethics and determination, he bid his family farewell and headed to the city.

Elizabeth, too, would be leaving for the Phantomhive manor later that morning. He silently wished her good luck. If Ciel _was _working on a case, then he was bound to be in an irascible mood for visitors.

The noble arrived at London earlier than he expected, however. The morning sun dawned upon the few who milled around, opening stalls and preparing for the day. Edward could have waited until noon to leave, but he had wanted to spend some time in the city, relaxing and taking in the sights he hadn't seen, boarded up on campus as he was. Still, there was such a thing as being _too early _in the morning, and Herman's letter told him to come later that day, preferably around teatime as the prefect had business to attend to earlier. Thinking to himself for a moment, he called his coach driver and directed him to Hyde Park. Might as well go for a stroll in the park while he was here…

It had been a long time since he went to Hyde Park. The last time had been when he and Elizabeth were children, Edward recalled fondly. Their father had taken them to London, giving them a tour of the city, and when he had a meeting with the Queen, he had left them with their nanny at the park. If only he knew the misadventure they had then…the blond couldn't help but chuckle as he stepped inside the park.

He walked through, taking his time as he meandered through the paved-stone pathways and flowering bushes. There were few people this early in the morning, and the peaceful silence lent to the illusion of having the park all to himself. Chuckling inwardly, Edward decided to rest on a bench, right under the verdant boughs of a tree.

He tilted his head up, intent to enjoy the feeling of the fresh breeze caressing his face.

There was a man on the tree.

…

..

.

_What!?_

Edward nearly yelped and fell out from his seat. Fortunately, he caught himself just in time, managing to retain the composure his mother had so painstakingly drilled into him. _Poise, elegance, and dignity at all times, _his mother had said, over and over and over again until the words burned into his mind. _Poise, elegance, and dignity, _no, he wasn't going to gawk or gape at the man like a scoundrel. He was an _English gentleman,_ for God's sake!

So, instead of screaming or shouting at the man like his instincts first told him to _(the second was to leave and ignore him)_, Edward stood and walked to the foot of the tree. He peered up through the thick branches, seeing that the man was laying on his back, fast asleep. Was he a homeless beggar who managed to sneak in last night and slept there?

"Hello!" He called out, and because his good manners told him to, added, "Good morning!"

"What's so bloody good about mornings?" The other mumbled groggily. The voice sounded young, perhaps belonging to someone of similar age to him. "Bugger off."

Edward frowned up at him, unable to see more than the silhouette of his form from this height. "I don't think so." He said primly. "Why are you sleeping in a tree?"

"'Cause it's _soooo _comfortable," he grumbled dryly. "Just piss off, why don't you?"

"Get down from that tree first," the noble replied, tempted to just climb up and dragged the man down himself. "Before I alert the authorities of your presence."

"_Noooo,_" the other groaned, his form shifting as he seemed to roll to his side. Edward had yet to see his face.

"Very well, then," Edward said, a faint frown pulling his lips. His good mood was ruined by a beggar. _How wonderful._

As he turned to leave, about to report him to the guards, Edward found himself pulled back by the collar. He screamed, kicking his legs out instinctively as his hands gripped a surprisingly strong arm. _Damn it, _he left his special cane by the bench, and with it, his sword. He looked back, trying to peer at his capturer, only to see a long black sleeve covering up the other's offending arm, a strange bracelet-watch on its wrist. Up, up, and up, he pulled onto the tree.

Just when he thought the man would drop him, Edward was surprised again to see him stand, easily carrying him with one hand as if he weighted nothing, and leapt up. Edward screamed again, but no one heard him as he was taken to the highest branch, so far from the ground and covered by leaves at all sides. Then he was dropped onto the branch, legs dangling over it _(too keenly aware at how __**easy **__it would be to fall and die)_, before the man plopped down next to him and promptly laid his head on his lap, eyes closed and looking to all the world asleep.

It took Edward more than a minute to process everything.

And when he did, he _shouted:_

"_What in the name of God and the Queen was that!?"_

Somewhere, birds chirped at each other, looked up at the sky, before seemingly shrugging and continued on their merry ways.

On the tree, the other man _yawned._

"Quiet down…I'm trying to sleep…" he murmured drowsily, shifting to his side. "You have no idea how hard it is to sleep in a tree…This is why I hate working overtime…"

Edward gaped. _What the hell!? _You couldn't just drag someone up a tree, use him as a pillow, and _say _that! An explanation would be _very _nice, and it was the least thing the other owed. Edward huffed, peering down at the man now dozing on his lap.

He quickly dismissed his previous theory. This man was no beggar if he could afford a clean, fine Italian suit, along with a pair of white Oxfords and dark, thick glasses. And that strange watch-bracelet thing on his wrist looked expensive. If he could afford such luxuries, then why couldn't he rent a place at an inn or hotel? It was just one of the many things which didn't make sense. The other was how he didn't seem Italian despite his suit, and his features looked as English as Edward's was. His hair, too, was strange; the top being reddish-blond while the bottom half was black. Did he dye it? But the colours didn't seem as artificial as dyed hair, almost as natural the gold on his hair. Edward had never seen someone with two-toned hair.

"Well excuse _you _for working so late," he growled, _poise, elegance and dignity _forgotten for the moment. The idea of tossing the wanker off grew more appealing by the second, "but you have yet to explain why you_ dragged _me up a _tree!"_

The other blearily opened one, chartreuse, double-iris eye. For a moment, Edward was stunned, the back of his neck prickling forebodingly. _Run, _a voice in the back of his mind whispered, _hide. This is death. __**He **__is Death. Run. Hide._

He shoved the thought away, however. It didn't make sense; the man just had unusual eyes, likely because of some strange genetics the poor bloke was unfortunate to have. There was no _way _it could be related to mysticism or supernatural notions, such as Death being a person rather than a force. That wouldn't make sense, as they lived in the age of reason, of _science, _and things such as demons or death gods belonged to the realm of fiction, not reality. Edward simply _couldn't _believe it.

The man looked at him for a moment which stretched to infinity, before he finally sighed and closed his eye.

"I need to sleep," he yawned, "You threatened to report me in. Got to stop you somehow. Plus, your lap makes a nice pillow."

Edward coloured at that, his fists clenched by his sides, lest he toppled the other off and accidentally killed him via dropping him. He so badly wanted to sock him, but he restrained himself. If he moved, he would risk knocking him off _(which the man deserved!)_, and if the man fell, he could very well die. What an annoyingly precarious situation to be in…

"I am _not _a pillow," he grumbled, but tried to composed himself. "Why don't you just sleep in an inn? You certainly look as if you can afford it."

"Appearances can be deceiving," the other mumbled, eyes shut peacefully. For some reason, Edward felt relieved. Those eyes made the man seemed inhuman, as if he was not a man, but something…_else_.

"You're a thief then?" Edward asked, unable to keep a hint of accusatory tone out of his voice.

It made him smirked and opened those _(strange, unworldly) _chartreuse eyes, "In a manner of speaking."

"Great," the noble muttered dryly. "I'm spending my morning in a tree with a ruffian."

The other let out a laugh, bright and boyish _(completely contrasting those aged sun-touched, verdant forest eyes)_. "You're not going to let me sleep, are you?" He asked, smiling wryly, if tiredly.

"Heavens, no," Edward replied, "You dragged me up here, the least you can do is entertain me."

"Fine, fine, I'll be your _humble_, chatty servant," he sighed, as if it was a great burden, though the small smirk on his lips ruined the effect.

Edward couldn't help but snort at that, "If you're my servant, I'll have you dropped and whipped in an instant."

_(A lie: he and his family were nowhere __**near **__as harsh as some noble families could be to their servants.)_

It caused the other to laugh again, and despite himself, Edward couldn't help but let a small smile break through his stoic façade. Soon enough though, the man's laughter faded into chuckles, and even that turned to thoughtful contemplation. He stared at him for a moment, green-gold eyes gazing at him piercingly, before he slipped a hand into his inner jacket pocket and withdrew a small book. With one hand, he flipped through the pages before glancing at him, "You're not on the list."

"List?" Edward wondered aloud, peering down to see the book. Strangely, the other allowed him, even lifting it up to let him see it easier. The amused smirk on his face told him that the other knew something he didn't.

Therefore, he wasn't entirely surprised to see the book and say, "It's blank."

The man on his lap chuckled and pocketed it back, saying nothing more about the book. Edward leaned back on his palms, a small frown on his face.

"Aww, don't look like that! You'll ruin your handsome face," the strange man said, grinning as he folded his hands under his head.

All Edward could do was stared blankly at him. _Handsome? _Sure, his family told him he was quite attractive, and he _knew _he was good-looking enough to attract more than a fair share of ladies, but he never heard a _man _said so to him. He may be resigned to be here for the rest of this otherwise fine morning, had already given up on making the man move, yet he didn't imagine that the other was…that he had a-an _inclination _towards the same sex.

His grin slowly faded as Edward continued to do nothing but stare. "Oops…" the man let out a nervous laugh, "I forgot most humans still think it's taboo…Hahaha…just forget I said that, ok?"

"…"

He didn't know how to reply to that. If Edward wasn't himself, he would probably be shouting blasphemies and condemning him or-or _something _at the very least. Not just _stared _at him with uncomprehending confusion, torn between saying _'impossible!' _and asking _'how is that even possible?!'_. Homosexuality was forbidden in all the societies he knew of _(which, admittedly, meant only England, and to an extent, the rest of the Continent)_. Furthermore, the church claimed it was a sin, something which began with demons and would condemn the person to an eternity in Hell.

It was that last part which Edward was always reluctant to believe. He believed in God and the Lord as much as the next Englishman, but Edward always found it…iffy…whenever the church claimed that something could incur the Almighty's hate. Wasn't God supposed to be all-loving and all-accepting? He could accept that Hell was made to punish sinners, but forever? Even a lifetime in prison under the heaviest charges had ending in the form of death. If one were to be punished forever, wouldn't it be torture instead, and not punishment? Edward could not believe that the all-loving God could be that cruel…

_(More than that though, __**Edward **__wasn't cruel. He may be raised to believe the act was wrong and shameful, but he was also raised to not condemn people unjustly.)_

After a long while, he slowly nodded.

The man grinned, relief evident on his face. His chartreuse eyes carried a hint of respect, "Thanks, you're not so bad."

Edward gave a helpless shrug. What could he do? The other hadn't done anything terrible; he was just…strange—very, very, _very _strange. One didn't go to prison for that. "Just don't say such things in public," he warned, before curiosity overtook him. Edward had never met a man who was…interested…in another-another man. It was all so new to him, and there was a certain kind of thrill in learning something new, "Are you really…?"

"Yes," the man answered without hesitation, without shame. Wherever the man was born, it must have been an…exceptional place. The other tilted his head a little, "But I'm also interested in women." He grinned, teasing and playful all at once. "After all, why restrict yourself to one when you can do both?"

"Pervert," was all Edward could say, his cheeks reddening at the-at the thought of his words. How was it possible to-_like _men and women at the same time?

He laughed again, "Hahaha, I heard that a lot! Though I've also been called womanizer, ladies-man—"

"Please spare me," he pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in and out deeply. "How-how is it even possible to-to be…to _like _both at the same time?"

The man blinked, as if the thought never crossed his mind. "It just is," he answered simply. "You know, you're strangely accepting of all this. I heard there was this one bloke from my office who accidentally told someone he was gay and got arrested immediately," he chuckled at the memory, "Poor guy, he had to spend a night in prison before the others got him out, and after that he got lectured for at least an hour by the boss."

"I don't believe it's a crime to tell someone you're happy…" Edward frowned.

"Happy?" The other blinked. "Oooh, yeah, that's not what I meant by 'gay'. See, from where I come from, 'gay' means homosexual."

Curiouser and curiouser. The more he talked with this strange man, the more it became apparent to Edward that he did not came from any society he knew of, despite his English looks and Italian suit. Where in the world would one find such odd community, completely different from the kind he grew up in?

"Ah," was all he could say. What more could he say? What more could he ask?

The other shifted on his lap, "Is that all?" he asked, settling himself comfortably before yawning. He blinked droopily, lifting a hand to check his odd bracelet-watch, before dropping his arm to the side. "Well, it's not yet time to work. So," he managed a smile, "what's your name?"

With a start, Edward realised he had never given his name, nor had he learnt the name of this stranger who dozed on his lap. Well, that needed to be fixed.

"I am Edward Middleford," he said, leaving out all his titles and mentions of nobility. No doubt the other knew, or at least guessed, what he was though. It wasn't as if Edward made it _discreet._

The other smiled and opened his mouth, saying:

"I'm Ronald Knox. It's nice to meet you, Edward."

* * *

Ronald was…interesting, to say the least.

Despite the unfortunate circumstances which led to his situation, Edward couldn't help but be fascinated by the odd man, or perhaps teen would be the better word. Ronald looked as old as—and perhaps even _younger_ than—Edward. Yet there was an odd quality in him, something which made him seemed older than he imagined. It was there in his turn of phrases, the way he worded certain things, and how he talked about events which he couldn't _possibly _be alive for. He kept silent over such things, knowing that if the noble were to call him out on it, the other would shut up immediately.

Edward was also interested in the organisation he seemed to be a part of. Ronald didn't mention a name, but he referred to it often enough that he got a basic understanding of it. From what he managed to piece together, the organisation was independent of any country's affair and only operated under its own interest, taking care of 'clients' before 'pests' could come and get them. Ronald was here due to a mission to 'take care' of an ex-member, and his supervisor forbid him to return before he got something to report _(which he complained about to no end; he didn't have any 'human' money like his partner)_, even though he lived 'relatively nearby' _(Edward didn't believe him. A community as strange as Ronald's would garner __**some **__sort of attention, especially if it was 'nearby')_. Honestly, it all sounded very shady, especially when Edward mentioned his cousin.

"I have a younger cousin," he began, watching him carefully; "His name is Ciel Phantomhive. Quite young, yet quite skilled in handling his household and…other matters."

"You're the Earl's cousin?" Ronald blurted out, eyes wide. Edward hid his suspicion behind a nod.

"Yes, and he is to be married to my younger sister," at this, the noble frowned. As much as he had grown to respect Ciel, he still didn't trust him very much. "Do you know of him?"

"Oh, I know _of _him for sure," the blonde snorted, rolling his _(strange, strange) _eyes. "That butler of his is one of the 'pest' I talked about, though he's been well-behaved ever since he became a butler."

"I see…" Edward returned, and he wondered if he should ask more. Too much would seem too suspicious, but he was curious of Ciel's work. That boy was too secretive for his own good, though the blond did understand that there were some things he rather not know. In the end, when he next spoke, it was of an entirely different subject.

Despite his shadiness, Ronald was an interesting conversationalist. They chatted over nearly everything: sports, studies, festivities, and even politics. Edward revealed that he played in a cricket team in his college, while Ronald told him that while he didn't play cricket; he was pretty good at football. He even told him about the time he got one 'y' _("I forgot only prefects can step on the lawn!") _and had to write a Latin poem one hundred times _("I bet I can still recite it by heart.")_. The other sniggered, head _still _on his lap _(apparently, he liked his new pillow. Edward wasn't amused and smacked him on the head. Ronald continued to laugh)_, and looked up at him with those double-iris eyes _(not normal, but then again, nothing about this man was normal) _sparkling with mirth.

"You know, I saw something really funny when I went to pick up a client," Ronald grinned, snickering at the memory, "There's this thief who was running away from the Yard. He stole some diamonds, I think, though that doesn't matter. Anyway, he ran into this little theatre where some actors were practicing and went up to the stage, grabbing the closest guy as hostage."

"The cops stopped, of course, speaking all low and slow like the guy was some wild dog. The thief ignored them and inched back, heading to the backdoor with his hostage," he laughed, " That's when another actor—apparently the bloke was late—arrived from backstage, saw the whole thing, and proceeded to smacked the thief with the nearest prop: _a frying pan!" _Ronald chortled, "The others then beat the guy up too with props; you know, like a chair or a mock-sword or even _a tree!_"

Ronald also, apparently, had quite the dark humour.

Edward couldn't help but to chuckled quietly however, even though he knew that in civilized company a joke like Ronald's would be taken in bad taste. Chuckling, the noble shook his head in mild amusement and shared his misadventures in college.

As time wore on, Edward slowly relaxed, tension seeping out of his shoulders as he leaned back on his palms and continued to talk. This wasn't so bad. Ronald may be suspicious and a-a _bisexual (at least he still liked women)_, but Edward could see that he wasn't a bad man. If they meet again after this, Edward would even be happy to call him a friend—social status aside.

Eventually, he learnt that Ronald had partnered with someone named Grell Sutcliff. The name sounded familiar, so Edward told him how someone with that name used to be his late aunt's butler.

"I never did understand why Aunt Angelina hired him," he told him, idly playing with a piece of loose bark, "Sutcliff was an incompetent butler, always so clumsy and messing things up. He was so timid and nervous too, almost neurotic, and was as quiet as a mouse."

"Hahaha…" Ronald laughed, but it wasn't the same free, merry laugh he had before. His smile, too, while wide, seemed slightly strained. "I'm sure it's just a coincidence. The Grell I know is really—extravagant, yeah, that's it," he nodded to himself, "Yes. Ms Sutcliff is very extravagant and dramatic, the kind that thrives on attention, and is quite loud and expressive," he wrinkled his nose, "I'm pretty sure that the Sutcliff you knew and the one I know are two different people."

Edward _'hmm'_ed, tilting his head up to peer at the blue sky beyond the blanket of green leaves, "I suppose you're right."

Because he was looking up, he missed Ronald's relieved sigh.

* * *

Ronald was dozing off when he felt someone gently shaking him.

He blinked blearily, the world blurring into a gradient of green and yellow before his eyes. Where were his glasses? He felt his face, eyes widening when he realised it wasn't there. _Shit_. Where was it? He couldn't see a thing in the Human Realm without those special glasses! Sure, some Reapers _(or former ones, anyway) _could still fight and function without them, but it took years of training to hone their other senses to such high degree. Ronald still mostly relied on his eyes, despite being centuries old _(then again, he was inducted into the Reapers rank only a couple of decades ago)_, and it was a crippling weakness he was told time and time again to fix, but that didn't matter right now because _where were his glasses, _did he dropped them or—

His glasses were held in front of him.

_What?_

He blankly gazed at it for a second, before colouring and grabbing those special glasses, murmuring a thank you to—

_Ooooh._

The world cleared, the blurry colours taking distinct shapes and forms. Over him was Edward Middleford, the noble who had disturbed his sleep earlier in the morning and the one which he had promptly decided to use as a pillow. The Reaper blinked up at him, before the memory of what happened before he fell asleep came back, and grinned.

"That was a nice nap!" He said cheerily, rising up from the other's lap and stretching his arms, before settling down next to the noble with his legs swinging over the branch. He rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, blinking awake. Next to him, he saw Edward smiled in amusement.

"You look like a cat that just woke up from his nap," he remarked.

"Hey, that rhymes!" Ronald replied cheerfully, kicking his legs over the branch to regain some feeling in them. He flexed his fingers and creaked his neck.

Edward chuckled, the little laughter sounding _cute _to his ears. Too bad the noble didn't swing that way, though perhaps it was a good thing. A romance between a human and a reaper was doomed to fail, and present society criminalises homosexuals too. It said much that Edward didn't throw him off and reported him in.

The Reaper glanced upward, noting the position of the sun in the sky. Must be noon then. How time flew. Still, he has time before he was supposed to meet the Earl later that night to discuss their plans about ambushing Adrian Baines. It was a long way off, and he wanted nothing to do but relax until then.

Ronald turned to Edward. "So," he began, "why did you wake me up?"

"I have to meet a friend," the other answered, pointedly looking at him, "I can't move if you don't wake up, and besides you were the one who got me up here in the first place. You should help me get down."

"Yes, yes, _princess,_" the Reaper snickered, earning a slap to the back of his head. Edward glared, but Ronald kept his cheeky grin.

Without warning, the Reaper grabbed him and leapt. He could hear the blond shriek, _'This isn't what I meant!', _and he couldn't help but laugh. This was nothing for a reaper, but for a human, he guessed it must be quite a fright.

He landed easily, startling a few bird, and set the noble down. Edward muttered under his breath, trying to gain his bearings while glaring at him at the same time. Ronald just placed his hands behind his head, grinning cheekily.

"What _are _you?" he questioned offhand, still irritable from the jump.

Ronald bowed theatrically _(his senior must be rubbing off on him)_, and answered honestly, "I'm a Reaper."

Edward snorted, frowning. "Yes, and I'm an angel."

The Reaper laughed, though for a different reason than the human believed. Angels were _far _from the beautiful, kind beings humans portrayed them to be. If the Lady was right _(and she would _definitely _know) _the amount of 'friendly' angels could be counted with two hands. Most angels were more 'neutral' and uncaring than Reapers, after all. Of course a human would dismiss the truth and believe a lie.

"Right, well," the noble took out his pocket watch, flicked it open, and frowned, "Seems like I have an appointment to meet now."

"Meeting a friend?"

"Yes," he nodded. Edward looked at him, glanced away, pursing his lips before looking back at him. "Ronald, would-would you like to meet up again?"

'_Are you asking me out on a date?' _he was tempted to say, but wisely decided against it. Edward may be tolerant, but it was best not to push it. Besides, he wasn't sure if the term 'date' existed in present society. He would have to ask Cleo later. The former Demon Hunter loved to learn new cultures, hence one of the reasons why she was good at being a Greeter.

"Of course," he said, smirking. Why not? Perhaps he could ask William later to assign him to Edward's inevitable death. Ronald turned away and waved over his shoulder. "Goodbye then, I'll see you later!"

"What—but we haven't assigned a meeting place!?" he heard Edward stammered.

Ronald tilted his head and laughed, loudly and freely, to the blue, blue sky.

"There's no need," he said, turning his head to show a hint of a smirk on his face as he prepared to teleport. "I'll find you, Edward Middleford."

He saw his shocked expression before he phased out—the bright, bright world dissolving into wispy shadows as his being faded from the physical plane only to be reformed elsewhere. He laughed as his feet solidified and found purchase on the Phantomhive grounds, absentmindedly wondering how the noble took his little disappearing act.

Ronald grinned. Maybe they could meet again after this case.

* * *

**CHAPTER 2: END**


End file.
